Politics and Religion

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Women learning how to vote. Google.

Hello sunshine,

One of the things I’ve been told ever since I was a child was that “you never talk about politics and religion at the dinner table.” This is something my mom has instilled in me since I was born. She was taught this by her uncle/father figure. To this day I don’t know if my mother is affiliated with a political party, and although we regular attend church, we do not talk about religion in-depth. Any time I hear people talking about religion or politics in person, I cringe, because I was always told these types of discussions only lead to hurt friendships and feelings.

You can imagine how I felt when I came to college. EVERYONE here talks about religion AND politics. Like, do they not understand that it is not advisable to talk about these things???

I feel like especially after this past election cycle, being a Republican and a Democrat, especially as a college student, is extremely frustrating and disheartening.

Here is an article about what it means to be a millennial Republican.

Here is an article about what it mean to be a millennial Democrat.

Be kind to one another.

If you do decide to talk about politics or religion, go into it with an open-mind, and learn to celebrate the differences of your peers, no matter what they are. Don’t let a friendship become ruined over simple words about complex ideas that we cannot fully grasp.

I am just writing this post to encourage people to always remember to celebrate each others’ differences and to not end a friendship (not matter what stage) over talk about politics and religion. I had to learn very quickly how to celebrate people who were different from me, especially since most of the people I went to grade school with were JUST like me – young, white, and country. Let’s get real, most of the people I went to school with were related in some form of kinship to me, so YEAH, everyone was just like me.

Catch ya on the flipside.

RB

Feminism on the Farm

Hello sunshine,

I have a secret.

This is going to sound very strange, but here goes nothing . . .

I didn’t hear the word ‘feminism’ until I came to college. And by “hear the word,” I mean I didn’t really know what feminism was, or what it meant to a large group of people, or what it was all about.

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Feminist Symbol. Google.

You see where I’m from, feminism doesn’t really exist. We don’t talk about the rights of women in my home. The only rights my people (the rednecks) are concerned with is the right to bear arms. And as far as I know, women are just entitled to that right as men.

Now hold your horses!

I think it is important to note that I grew up in an environment where I was told I needed to learn how to do things, like change a tire, cook, etc. so that I wouldn’t have to depend on  a man for the rest of my life. Maybe in a way that was what feminism on the farm looked like. My godfather, Uncle Kerry, always told me that I needed to be self-sufficient, that I never needed to rely on a man because I was better than that. It was instilled in me at an early age that I was going to college and earn a degree before I even thought about getting married and having kids. Maybe this was my family’s way of introducing me to feminism without actually saying the word. Not that feminism is a bad word or anything.

Now that I’m in college.

Something that I noticed since I’ve come to college is that I have very strong opinions on the rights of women. It definitely helps that I have professors, both male and female, who are strong advocates for women. I must say, I have a wonderful professor who is the epitome of everything I want to be in life. She is strong, highly educated, and most definitely a feminist. She has taught me that “life is too short for an ordinary man, so why settle?” and that “a Bachelors, Masters, or Doctorate isn’t going to wake up one day and decide it doesn’t love you.

Since coming to college, I’ve prayed for the success of the Women’s Marches, I wore red in solidarity and spent no money on the Day Without a Women. Although I am not a die hard, burning my bra, and destroying the patriarchy type feminist, I do consider myself one. Honestly though, I don’t think I could ever walk into my parents’ home and declare “I’m a feminist!”

Your beliefs are yours, don’t let anyone tell you differently.

Whether you’re a feminist, and environmentalist, whatever, all I’m trying to say is that if you are going to believe in something, believe in something wholeheartedly. Study it. Decide if it lines up with your religious/moral/ethical beliefs.

So here’s my question . . . When was the first time you heard about feminism? Leave me a comment and let me know!

Catch ya on the flipside.

RB

The Big, Puffy, Camouflage Jacket

Hello sunshine,

So today I am going to talk about a very sensitive subject in my life: camouflage.

You see where I come from, camouflage is considered a fashion staple – equivalent to black or plaid.

I hate to admit it, but growing up I adapted out of necessity, not necessarily desire to my surroundings and the fashion trends thereof.

Unfortunately, that means that in high school, I wore camo.

My fashion background was more like the hunting aisle at Walmart.

My ninth grade boyfriend bought me a camouflage jacket for hunting season the first fall season we were together. We were supposed to go on many a hunting trips that never happened. That particular camouflage jacket is now used by my mother.

After I graduated from high school, I greatly distanced myself from the redneck culture I was exposed to throughout my adolescence. I started to grow, adapt, and find my own unique sense of style that wasn’t limited to t-shirts from high school, Miss Me jeans, TOMS, and camouflage jackets. I started becoming more girly. I love to wear dresses and piece together professional-type outfits. My favorite patterns include plaid and floral, not camouflage.

Now let’s flash forward to Christmas 2016. My mother had been talking for weeks about how I needed a good new coat for the winter months, especially since it was supposed to be an unbearably cold winter. Christmas morning at my mother’s house came around and I accepted to unwrap a pea coat or North Face jacket, but alas came up empty-handed. It wasn’t until later in the day at my godparents’ house that I was handed a rather large box. I didn’t expect it to be a coat . . . but there it was.

It was camouflage: Real Tree or Mossy Oak, although I honestly can’t tell you the difference.
It was also hot pink, with a fur-lined hood, and puffy like one of the coats you see Ralphie wear on A Christmas Story.

It. Was. Ugly.

Although I thought it looked atrocious, I accepted from my godparents with pure delight, because I knew they bought it with the best intentions and with a large helping of love, even though it wasn’t quite my style.

Where is it now???

Where is the jacket now you ask? Why it is in my closet . . . the back section that is, on a hanger with all the original tags still on it (if you would like to see a picture, please scroll down below).

Have you ever had a piece of clothing you got for Christmas or maybe a birthday that you can’t bear to get rid of because you know the person who bought it for you did so out of pure love? Feel free to comment and tell me about it!

Catch ya on the flipside.

RB

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The big, puffy, camouflage jacket that stays on a hanger in the back of my closet.